


Let Me Hear the Words of Love

by thephantomrunner



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Tumblr Post, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Get Together, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, brian is sad, roger is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-12-29 02:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephantomrunner/pseuds/thephantomrunner
Summary: Brian really hoped that Rogers strange actions weren't caused by homophobia. If they were, it would only complicate his growing feelings for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello yes—  
> I come bearing angsty Maylor. I've never written for this fandom, so I'm excited and scared  
> For the record, none of this happened, I’m not implying that it ever happened and it is purely a work of fan FICTION. 
> 
> This is inspired by a head-cannon I saw on the wonderful Tumblr blog @/bohemian-rhapsody-slash (An AMAZING blog!!) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Brian didn’t miss the way Rogers mouth had twisted in disgust when he had mentioned the name. He furrowed his brow in annoyance, ready to challenge whatever was to come out of the blondes mouth. But he didn’t say anything, however the grimace remained, maring his soft features. 

“What, Roger?” He let out an exasperated sigh. He had decided to asked him even though he knew what the answer was going to be. 

Roger was not fond of Freddie. He hadn’t had said outright that he had a problem with him, but Brian could see the inquisitivity laced with a mild disapproval. When they first met him, Brian had done his best to give Freddie a reassuring smile at Rogers lackluster demeanor. When Roger had refused to shake his hand, instead offering his hand for a shake Freddie’s own smile had not faded, but Brian could see the myrth in his eyes was replaced with a nervousness that had to be caused by the palpable tension in the air. 

Freddie had approached the two after one of their gigs with Smile- well, then they were Smile. Their lead singer and bassist, Tim, had expressed his doubts regarding their future moments before. He also brought up a band he was trying to form a band with the most ridiculous name Brian had ever heard. Humpy Bong- he remembered how he had fought back a snort. He seemed sincere in his apologies over his inevitable and impending departure, but it didn’t stop Roger from slamming his beer bottle on the ground- and once Tim was gone- burying his face in Brian’s shoulder from frustration. Brian was taken aback, though he and Roger were not strangers to physical contact. Just as soon as he was there, he was gone and Brian was left with an electric, tingling sensation where his forehead had been. He wanted nothing more than to hold the smaller mans face in his hands and kiss him until he had calmed down. They were so close. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Roger whispered. His face portrayed a fiery anger, but his voice was soft with hurt. If that night had gone anything like Brian had hoped it would, he would have kissed Roger, or at least expressed his feelings for him. But a voice that had been complementing their performance caused Roger to turn quickly, accepting the remark with a defeated smile. 

Brian often thought about kissing Roger. He wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked. He knew his hair was; it was cathartic to run his fingers through his friends soft blonde locks. He loved when his blue eyes smiled. It was so genuine and gentle it made the stars dull in comparison. He had never so much as looked at another man before Roger, and it scared him to death when he realized it. He knew that so many were condemned for these feelings. Condemned, ostracized and hated. He was so scared and yet, when Roger smiled and his eyes softened, he couldn't bring himself to think his feelings were wrong. So, maybe he wanted to hold Rogers hand and shower him in kisses and affection, but he would never tell him that. 

Especially now. 

He shook his head, not allowing his thoughts to run any further. Roger was his best friend and he wasn’t going to assume nasty things about him. He thought too much of him. 

He raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for a verbal response from Roger. 

“Nothing,” Roger shook his head, tugging his blue jumper to the palms of his hands. 

Blue looked nice on him, Brian mused. It complimented his eyes, and the material made him look soft. Young and sweet. It made it easy to repress any anger he might start towards him.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts again. “You keep saying its ‘nothing’, Roger, but your face and your body language says something very different” He put his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on their kitchen table gingerly. He was waiting curiosly for his response. 

Roger’s eyes were downcast and he had picked up his coffee cup. He held the mug between both of his hands, holding it up to his lips, but not making any movement to drink its contents. It was almost as if he was hiding behind it. 

“It's nothing.” Silence. “I’m serious, Brian. He’s a good singer- sounds a bit like a goat- but with training I know he’d be amazing,” 

“Then what…?” He gestured lightly with his other hand

“There is no problem, Brian.” Roger still had the mug to his lips. It was acting as protective shield, as if Brian was about to vocally hurl violence at him “What do you think?”

“Well, I think he’s bloody amazing- and it’s not like we have many options. But Roger. I want this to be a mutual decision. You always seem,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Uncomfortable. Or distant. We’d be a band. I’d want us all to get on” 

The next silence that falls on them isn’t uncomfortable, but Brian was beginning to feel more anxious.

“Okay. Fine” Roger put his cup down with more force than necessary. The dark liquid slashed messily out of the cup, dripping down the sides and pooling on the checked tablecloth. 

Brian stood quickly, grabbing a towel from the sink, dabbing it with water and patting at the brown stained cloth. He waited, his lips parted in anticipation. Roger obviously had strong feelings on the matter. 

“Don’t you think he’s a little… much?” Roger’s brow was furrowed, his lips in the same grimace they had been when he had first mentioned Freddies name. 

“Much,” Brian repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. He didn’t have to ask what he meant. 

“Yes, much.” Roger repeated his own words back to Brian. “You have to know what I’m talking about” His blue eyes were pleading. His lips were red and swollen: If he kept chewing them like that, they would start bleeding soon. Had it been any other situation, Brian would’ve placed a calming hand over Rogers. 

He understood what Roger was trying to say, but he refused to give into what Roger wanted him to. He had picked up on Freddie’s flamboyant nature. He seemed quiet and reserved upon their first meeting, but after several meetings he had warmed up to Brian. Tim hadn’t quit right away, but Freddie had stuck around, enjoying Brians company and hoping that the man mentioned before the latter was not planning on staying around for much longer. 

Brian understood that many would question Freddie’s choices, especially ones regarding his sexual preferences. He was flamboyant, ostentatious in his clothing and every other word he uttered was either ‘darling’ or ‘dear’. But by the same token, Roger could also be judged in that same manner by his bright and patterned outfits and long blonde tresses. He couldn’t bring himself to understand why any of this would cause a problem with anyone in the first place. Freddie was sweet, driven and one hell of a musician. Why would anyone in their right mind not want to be in a band with him? Because he was too ‘much’? He found himself rolling his eyes at the statement, fighting interjecting anything against Roger. 

Rogers face was red, and his eyes were hazy. Brian could tell he was holding his breath. He was leaning so far back in his chair as if to put more space between he and Brian. Brian couldn’t understand why he was acting this way. He always had a flair for dramatics (something he knew Roger would also condemned Freddie for- the hypocrisy was almost laughable.) but he looked as if he was in a war with himself. He watched as the smaller man opened and closed his mouth, trying to formulate a proper sentence in response to his friends earlier question. 

He finally opened his mouth, deciding to say: “He’s just so much, Bri! With his shoes, his makeup, the fucking pet names and he... he dresses like...that-!”

“So do you,” Brian was quick to cut him off, gesturing to his bright sneakers. 

“It’s different! I’m not a...” his voice trailed off, refusing to make eye contact. He had been hoping Brian would agree with him. It would have cause this all to end so much better. Rogers heart was breaking in his chest. 

Brian’s eyes narrowed dangerously and his gaze switched between Rogers downcast face and the towel, now soaked with coffee that his long fingers were toying with “‘A what, Roger?” He knew what he was about to say, but it seemed he loved to hurt himself. 

His feelings towards Roger appeared and gradually increased until he found himself drowning in his ocean eyes. His fear had doubled in size; now he was fucking terrified.  
He had almost no hope that these feelings were reciprocated and he had grown to accept and be okay with that. Any thoughts that he had about confessing anything to Roger dissipated the moment Freddie has walked into the picture. In a way he was glad. He could simply fold up that part of him and hide it away. Roger would never know and he wouldn’t lose his best friend. 

“I’m not a,” he paused again, forcing his tongue to formulate the words and his mouth to expel the words his brain was telling him to say. “A fucking faggot,” it was near a whisper 

Brian didn’t say anything, and when Roger looked up, he could see the disappointment in his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were misty and his lips had pressed together in a tight line. The silence was deafening as he stood up slowly, clearly finished with the conversation they were having. He didn't want to hear what else Roger had to say. He wasn't that strong. 

“Brian,” Roger started, swallowing thickly, as Brian moves by him. He squeezed Rogers shoulder lightly on his way out. 

“I know Rog.” He whispered. “It’s okay,” but they both knew it wasn’t. 

It was evident what Roger thought of Freddie, and would Roger would think of Brian if he told him. He was disgusted with both himself and his best friend. 

He sat on his bed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to cry, or feel anything, really. Just a pit of emptiness forming at the bottom of his stomach. Outside he heard Rogers chair scrape the tiles and shortly after the door to the flat slammed. 

Having feelings for Roger meant it was inevitable that you would get your heart broken. However, the thought of his best friend hating him for something he couldn’t control had his heart breaking in the worst way possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Willkommen back, lovies!  
> Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Disclaimer,, none of this happened, I’m not implying that it ever happened and it is purely a work of fan FICTION.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, and he didn’t really care. As long as he was going away from Brian, then he was okay. 

His hands were shaking and he desperately needed a cigarette, but between his shaking hands and the deep pockets of his leather jacket, he was having trouble finding his lighter. 

God, why couldn’t he act like a normal person? Why, instead of fucking communicating with his best friend and telling him of his affection for him, had insulted their potential lead singer and himself with the most insulting thing he could think of? 

It puzzled even him. 

He walked aimlessly, allowing his thoughts to dissipate, welcoming the cold that made him numb. He didn’t wince as the cold took over his fingers, his nose, his ears becoming bright red. He walked until his feet hurt; his shoes were not meant for walking, only fashion. Then he continued to walk until the cold numbed the uncomfortable stabbing in his toes. 

As he walked the crowds of people dissipated and soon the rural silence hit his ears. The buildings became trees and the faces were replaced with unlit street lamps. 

He paused, not realizing how fast he had been moving and how his breath had become labored and erratic. He wasn’t sure if his failure to take a deep breath was caused by his lack of exercise, the panic that was rising in his chest or the weight of sadness and failure sitting on his heart. 

The sunset was annoyingly bright, the colors were beautiful but the light shone in a mocking way. He wishes he had grabbed his sunglasses. His vision was shit. He felt out of place. He didn’t feel more out of place than at his flat with Brian, who wore a disappoint grimace laced with sadness. 

When he saw no more faces, Rogers heart twisted as he allowed himself to fall into the grass. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the inevitable grass stains that would no doubt ruin his white pants. He didn’t care, he only wanted to breathe again. His breath came in short gasps and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

He wasn't going to cry. He loathed crying; it shoed weakness. He wasn't week. 

Fuck. 

He was crying.

His pants were ruined, and his eyes were going to be red and swollen. Oh, and he had insulted his best friend who probably hated him now. 

The thing with Brian is he wouldn’t let anyone know what was wrong. He would withdraw and almost fold into himself. He would be standing right there, but it would feel like there was so much space between them. Roger had tried to reach him, but he could never get through. He understood that he had to wait it out. And he did. When he did, everything would go back to normal- as if nothing had ever been upsetting Brian. However, Roger had never been the reason that Brian had retracted in on himself. He had a feeling that if he had upset Brian as much as he feared he had, there would be so much tension between them, or worse he never spoke to Roger again. He clenched his jaw at the unpleasant thought. 

 

He thought he had been doing a good job at hiding his feelings. Though his methods were unconventional, he figured that because Brian was so unresponsive to any advances he had made, that he just hadn’t noticed him. Brian was so, so smart- it was almost embarrassing how horribly stupid he was when it came to emotions and feelings. 

But Roger remembers the moment he realized that he was making Brian uncomfortable- because he just knew what someone was feeling without asking them. 

He was that good at reading people.

That night he could only vaguely remember the details of what happened, but the way his heart had twisted was something very vivid. He wanted to forget it. Roger understood that being subtle with Brian, was not an option. He was too oblivious to his own emotions he wouldn’t even realize somebody else's. They had finished one of their gigs only moments ago and had decided to go out. As usual, it took a lot of begging and persistence on Rogers part to get Brian to tag along with he and Tim. He wasn’t surprised when the man rolled his eyes- with smile- and told him that he couldn't stay long. 

Tim had left for the restrooms and Roger relished in being alone with Brian. He could almost laugh at how comically red the tall man's face had gotten when he had said whatever ridiculous thing Roger had told him. Roger had said something terribly dirty- at least in Brian’s mind- and Brain had looked so shocked and had blushed so deeply. His lips moving, but nothing was coming out. If Roger could have reached over and kissed him. he would’ve. Roger had said this jokingly (while it was completely and utterly true) and Brian understood this. He was moments away from finally telling Brian that he liked him, when Brian had stood up without a word and walked out of pub. 

He hadn't said anything. For the rest of the evening, Roger put on a guise of contentedness but when he drank, he was drinking to forget how he could’ve just fucked up one of the best things in his life. When he had trudged home, he threw himself onto his bed and decided to think rationally. Brian could simply not have feelings for him, or he was absolutely disgusted by Rogers advances. 

And because Roger was just so good at reading people, he settled for the second option.  
He had never had a problem with the gender of his sexual partners, but Brian was always right. Maybe it was disgusting. Maybe he was disgusting. 

Brian didn’t mention it the next day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. 

So naturally, neither did Roger. 

It was kind of a cover up. If Brian thought it was wrong, then Rogers feelings would eventually dry up and he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. He had to make sure that Brian knew that he didn’t feel anything towards him, in fact he completely agreed with him that it was gross and wrong.

He was shocked when Brian had taken a liking to Freddie, but he knew Brian was often blind and absolutely garbage at reading people. He was oblivious to the fact that Freddie probably liked men as well. So it was a perfect opportunity to show Brian that he didn’t have an interest in men, and that he condemned people who did. He had sat back in his seat when Freddie was introducing himself, there was a judgmental intensity in his gaze (he hoped). It wasn’t so hard to act in that moment, because god, the mans shirt was so ostentatious.

But it had all gone south because of that people reading that Roger was so good at. Because of it, he was lying in a field crying, without a clue as to where he was, his body was numb, his clothes were grass stained and Brian fucking hated him. 

He had no idea what he was gonna do, but his legs refused to let him go back. He wasn’t going to face Brian. He wasn’t going to leave this soft patch of grass. The cool air filled his lungs the way the cigarette he craved would. He didn’t even have the energy to reach in his pocket for his pack. 

Maybe he would die there. 

He allowed himself to wallow in his sadness for a while, but eventually his limbs grew still and by the soft orange glow that was seeping through the trees, the sun was beginning to set. He didn’t know how long he had been there but it had been for a few hours at least. The small warmth that the sun provided had kept him from completely freezing out, and he might’ve been able to stay there longer, but his head had started to hurt and his throat was so dry. 

Reluctantly, he sat up and took in his surroundings. He blinked, slowly trying to recognize where he was. He closed his eyes and put his face in his cold hands. 

God, he had fucked up so badly. 

He refused to cry again though. He could feel how his eyes were puffy and his face was stiff from the dried tears. He ran his hands through his tangled hair, removing any pieces of grass that were stuck. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping if he stayed like this maybe everything would go away. Maybe he would go away. Maybe today had been a nightmare.

Maybe-

“Roger?” 

He snapped his head up, startled at the mention of his name. 

His blue eyes wandered until he found where the semi-familiar voice had come from and when he found it, his face paled terribly. He saw the figure walking towards him with an outstretched hand, bending down to reach where he was sitting on the grass. Though it was blurred without his glasses, he could make out his face perfectly.

He swallowed apprehensively, trying to think of what to say back. He was suddenly feeling very sick. 

When he finally responded his voice was broken and raspy. 

“Freddie….”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I’d like to apologize on behalf of this stream of consciousness that’s basically excuse to implant by fav John into this (HELLO FILLER CHAPTER) I hope its still enjoyable, but I'm not quite sure what this is aha. (Non of this was intended to happen, you can skip and you’d miss nothing lol)
> 
> Also, APOLOGIES for the looooonng wait. Thanks for sticking with my mess of a story!

If he thought he was going to throw up before, the feeling increased a thousand times. He felt his heart beating in his ears. If his lips hadn’t been so numb, maybe he would’ve been able to formulate a proper sentence. Then again, his brain had shut down hours ago.

The silence was insane and if his legs were willing, he would’ve stood up and ran. He wasn’t sure where, just away. Away from everything. 

He saw Freddie slowly creeping towards him as if he was a wounded animal. 

“Roger, dear, are you alright?” He gently placed his hand on Roger’s shoulder. 

Roger hadn’t meant to, but he flinched violently away from Freddie, causing the other man to pull his hand back as if he’d been burned. Freddie cast his eyes down, clutching his hand to his chest. He kept licking his lips and opening his mouth, unsure of what to say next. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He finally managed to stammer. Roger hated himself. Freddie had been nothing but kind and open to him and he had been absolutely rotten in return. He felt his eyes beginning to burn again. 

He pressed his fingertips to his eyes as if that would make the pricking sensation go away. Freddie’s eyes lifted at the sound of the small sniffles that had escaped from the other man’s mouth. His expression softened and his past worries seemed to dissolve. He moved over to Roger with certainty, and without hesitation wrapped his arms around his shoulder. A small part of him was still afraid that Roger would push him away, perhaps call him a name, and run to Brian. Run to Brian and turn him against him as well. But the greater half of him knew that Roger wouldn’t do that. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding when Roger collapsed onto him. He grimaced as he tipped over into the grass, his hand catching him and keeping him from completely falling over. 

At least it wasn’t muddy. He really liked this coat. 

Beside him Roger had hid his entire face in his chest, his hand grasping desperately at the fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the wrinkles that were forming under the other man's fingers. He lifted his hand gently and began running his hands gently through Rogers hair, occasionally flicking a piece of grass that had gotten stuck. 

When he began to feel a wetness on his shirt, he knew that Roger was crying. He also noticed just how cold it was outside and how Roger was shivering intensely. He shifted slightly, Rogers head still resting on his shoulder. 

“Roger, you’ll catch your death if we stay out here any longer,” Roger only gave a weak nod in response, his sniffling dissipating. Freddie shrugged out of his warm fur, a chill running up his spine as the cool wind blew. He threw the jacket around Rogers shoulders, grimacing at the thought of him sitting out here for more than a few minutes. 

Roger almost wanted to let the coat fall to the ground, but the warmth that flooded his body from the extra layer was relieving. His heart twisting even more at the kind gesture and he stood up reluctantly wiping his red face with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Freddie whispered, and Roger pulled back immediately. There was no way in hell he was ready to go back to his place. He was absolutely not ready to face Brian now, or anytime in the foreseeable future. Freddie raised an eyebrow in question, almost as if he was waiting for an explanation from Roger. But the only response he got, was the rapid shaking of Rogers head. 

“I’m okay, I’ll be fine. You should go home before you get too cold or sick. Don’t worry about me” Roger tried to offer Freddie a smile. He found it was impossible to look away- like Freddie’s gaze had caused his eyes to freeze in place. 

“Are you going to go home?” Freddie asked, his eyes still locked with Roger. When Roger finally managed to break his stare, he looked at the nearest tree. The leaves were scarce, the rhythmic blowing of the wind shook even more off the branches onto the ground. Falling and falling. He bit his lip. 

“Why don’t you want to go home, dear?” he asked quietly- it was so quiet that he wasn’t sure if Roger could hear him. 

It took him awhile to formulate a proper sentence, and even after the minutes ticked away he could only stammer out a broken response. “I don’t want- I just… I-I’m-” Roger broke off his sentence when a cough bubbled in his throat. The fear of getting sick had been sitting at the back of his mind. Freddie rubbed his back, rather awkwardly, but it was mildly comforting nonetheless. When his cough had settled he muttered, “I’m an adult- I can do whatever I want and I don’t want to go back.” He paused thinking about how horribly untrue that was; he wanted everything to go back and fix things with Brian. To pull him into his arms and tell him that he liked him- that he wanted him. He decided to correct himself “I can’t go back,” 

He hated himself. He sounded so weak, so afraid. He was. 

“Well.” Freddie was a bit lost for words. He had been very fond of both Brian and Roger when he met them, but Roger had made it clear that he did not like Freddie. Every word that Freddie spoke, Roger would counter with something snarky or rude. And it only got worse every time he saw him. Right now, Roger was a completely opposite of the man he had seen just yesterday; the rolling of the eyes, the comments. He just looked sad and tired. His heart was going out to him, but he wasn’t sure how he could help him. He wanted to help, desperately, but he knew Roger would be uncomfortable. The situation made him feel uncomfortable too. He wasn’t sure what to do. “You’re colder than ice, Roger. You should head in before it starts getting dark” He paused 

“C’mon” Roger didn’t even argue as Freddie pulled him to his feet.

Roger hadn’t even noticed the bags that Freddie had abandoned to help him. He watched as Freddie picked them up, one in each hand. He must've been coming from the shops. Roger sniffed and pulled Freddie’s warm coat tighter around his body. Because Freddie’s hands were full, he gestured for Roger to follow him by nodding his head in the direction he was going. He offered Roger a sweet smile but his face was too numb for him to return it. He hated himself even more. 

Freddie started walking in the opposite direction of Brian and Rogers shared flat- towards his own. Roger watched after him as he begin to walk away- he knew that if he Freddie didn’t live far at all from the park in which Roger had been laying. The walk was five or ten minutes at most. He kicked himself for not offering to take him back to his flat in the first place. 

He knew that it was only five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The silence was loud, but Freddie was making no moves at trying to start a conversation. From the side of his eye he saw that Rogers eyes were glued to his shoes as he walked, his lips sealed into a tight line. 

Roger felt the tension as well- but it wasn’t as noticeable to him. He wondered if Freddie could hear the gages of the wheels turning in his brain. He wanted to say something- anything- but no words were coming to his lips. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to thank him, but his lips refused to move so he had to settle for that uncomfortable silence. If he headed back to Freddie’s flat, he would be provided with every opportunity to apologize which is why he kept following him instead of turning back to his home. That, and the fact he avoided Brian this way 

When Freddie had unlocked the grey door to his flat, warmth had hit Roger in the face, his cheeks reddening at the change in temperature. He curled his hands into fists to retain more warmth and the shivers running down his body began to dissipate immediately . 

Once inside, Freddie had disappeared into a room into the back. Roger pulled the coat tighter around his body, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Almost everything in the room was immaculate; everything was straight and the colors were coordinated. The place itself was small which, despite the sophisticated design, made it seem homely and comfortable. It was nothing fancy, but he felt as though by stepping into the space he would ruin it. 

Freddie reappeared a few seconds later, the bags he had in his hands earlier, gone.He rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile ghosting his lips. “It’s rude to stand in doorways, darling,” He singsonged as he grabbed Rogers arm and gently tugged him in the direction he had just came from. When they reached the kitchen, he pulled out a chair and gestured for Roger to sit. He reached over and removed the coat from around his shoulders remarking “I’ll get you a blanket and make you some tea.” He offered Roger a small smile before turning around and calling “John, dear? Would you mind making soup- I just came from the market!” His voice got smaller as he got farther into the flat and he heard another voices muffled response. Without the warmth of Freddie’s ostentatious coat (which he loved much more than he cared to admit) he felt his muscles tense into another shiver. 

When Freddie was gone, Roger found himself staring at the floor, his expression blank and his mouth slightly slack. There wasn’t much good about this that he could focus on: Brian hated him and he was in Freddie’s apartment, feeling out of place and like a horrible human. If he had grown a pair he would’ve just told Brian how he felt. Brian might’ve rejected him, but Roger knew that he would’ve gotten over it. At least that’s what he told himself. Even if Brian had told him that he didn't return his feelings, the rejection would be embarrassing, but at least he wouldn't have upset Brian this way- and he most certainly wouldn’t have damn near gotten hypothermia and ended up in Freddie Bulsara’s flat with whoever John was. There was absolutely no way that he could repay Freddie for his benevolence and that only made him feel worse. The fact that he liked men was far from being his least favorite thing about himself after today. 

His thoughts were soon broken by the sounds of soft padding across the floor. His head snapped up and he was met with a small timid smile. 

The man who offered it was probably a few inches taller than him, and perhaps twice as pale. His brown hair rested just below his shoulders and Roger couldn’t help but notice the seeming contrast between he and Freddie already. 

“I’m John, a… friend of Freddie’s” he outstretched his hand which Roger shakily took. “You must be Roger- I’ve heard a lot about you” Roger paled at that statement and John seemed to notice so he quickly tacked on “All good things. He’s excited to perform with you, it’s all he ever talks about these days.” he turned around to pull a pot out of the small cabinet. 

Roger was at a loss for words so he just smiled politely in response. The sound of heels clicking on the floor let him know that Freddie had returned. He had a soft looking blanket that he swiftly draped around his shoulders. 

“I’ll put the kettle on for some tea and we can chat while John makes dinner,” Roger watched out of the corner of his eye as Freddie pressed a kiss to John’s cheek. He looked away, deciding it was best not to comment or ask. 

As their tea brewed, Roger watched Freddie recount his day to John who patiently listened, rhythmically cutting a carrot. Occasionally, Freddie would reach over and steal a slice of tomato or whatever John was cutting to which John would respond by lightly slapping his hand away. He watched as Freddie quickly caught John’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, causing John to relent and Freddie to triumphantly pop the vegetable in his mouth. He felt uncomfortable watching them; not for reasons that people would probably assume. Not because their affection towards one another was clearly romantic and they were both men, but because he had insulted Freddie. And because he’d insulted Freddie, he’d also insulted John. He’d insulted Brian, and he’d insulted himself. 

Both Freddie and John, had occasionally tossed Roger questions, to which he would answer with a one worded response. He had eventually tuned them out, his thoughts running back to Brian. He hated the fact that the other man had this kind of power over him. He hated that he consumed his thoughts, and that the mention of his name made his heartbeat increase. He also hated how he had assumed the worst of his best friend. Assumed that he was less than the accepting, kind man that he was. 

Luckily, his thoughts were broken when Freddie handed him a steaming mug of tea. Roger has only smiled in response, immediately bringing the mug to his lips and not caring that the liquid had scalded his tongue. 

“Careful, dear,” Freddie took a seat in the chair across from Roger “It’s rather hot,” 

“So, Roger,” Roger averted his eyes back to the ground as Freddie began talking. “Tell me why you were lying in the park, in the freezing cold, in the middle of the day?” He ran his finger around the rim of his teacup, the black lacquer on his nail glinting in the light. John cleared his throat “I’ll be back,” he muttered politely “Freddie, please keep your eyes on the soup,” 

“What, because you can burn soup?” Freddie rolled his eyes. 

“Well _you_ can burn just about anything,” John looked at him knowingly, “I’ll be back,” 

When John has exited, Freddie looked back to Roger waiting for an answer the the question he had previously answered. 

“I was…” His mouth grew dry as his brain tried to formulate an articulate response. He finally settled on whispering “Freddie I’m sorry” the only thing he received in return was a raised eyebrow, encouraging him to elaborate. 

“I… I haven’t been the kindest to you. And, I’m sorry. You’re an amazing singer and we’d- Brian and I would be happy to play music with you. Tim too I suppose ,” 

“Thank you, dear. But I’m sure me wanting to join your band has little to do with you lying in a field, crying.” He rested his chin in his hand, leaning in closer to Roger. 

Roger was silent for a little while longer. “Either way, I’ve been horrible to you and I need to apologise.” 

“There’s really nothing to apologize for. I understand. It’s your band- you’re protective over it. You only want the best. I’d probably be the same way. Which-” 

“It’s not that.” Roger shook his head. “I’ve been unfair to you. I… I was jealous. Still am, I guess. And I suppose that made it even worse.” 

Freddie silently bit the rim of his mug, unsure of how to respond. 

“I don’t know. You’re so confident in yourself - I am too, I suppose. But there’s a part of myself that I see in you,” He cut himself off, thinking, before he decided to continue “Something that I’m not quite okay with.” 

He hated the way Freddie was looking at him; a look that was mixed with empathy and understanding. He didn’t want sympathy or empathy or whatever the correct word was. All he wanted was to apologise, to let Freddie know that he didn’t hate him and that he was grateful for him in every aspect of the word. 

“You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to, darling. I understand.” 

Roger only nodded, taking another sip of his tea. The warmth of it, along with the blanket and the heat in Freddie’s apartment had put a halt to the shivers that would occasionally pulse through Roger. 

“I think I fancy Brian,” His mouth barely moved and his words came out muffled and confused. He didn’t bother looking at Freddie's face to see his reaction before he continued. “Actually, I know I fancy Brian. I just don’t want to admit it to myself- and I could absolutely never tell Brian. Until today, I was under the impression that he would hate me. Which was horribly stupid of me. I said something horrible, and I’m pretty sure I upset him. “ He didn’t even want to think about the word that he had said- a word that had been thrown at him so much it no longer affected him. The world still held a whole lot of levity and he would kill anybody else who referred to one of his friends as such. Saying he was embarrassed would be an understatement. “We were talking about you. About how- or that, I…. I don’t have a problem with you Freddie. I just…I don’t know what to do,” 

For a minute Freddie was silent before he smiled slightly, leaning closer into the table “Tell me about Brian,” 

And Roger did. He talked about Smile, about how he met Brian. He talked about the things he loved and hated about that stupid, stupid astrophysicist,

“You should tell him. I’m sure he would forgive whatever you said-,” 

“Well I’m sure he wouldn’t. And I’m not sure you would either if you knew what I said” 

Their conversation ended when John had returned turning the stove off and scolding Freddie for not turning it off sooner. Freddie had responded by leaping up and throwing his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

He began to feel restless and suddenly he was too warm- he cleared his throat. He had to talk to Brian 

“Thank you, Freddie- for everything. I should head back,” Roger walked forward, placing his cup on the kitchen counter. 

Freddie picked up the blanket Roger had discarded on the chair, beginning to fold it, “We we’re having such a good chat, dear! Stay for dinner, and then John can drive you home. It’s already too dark for you to walk by yourself,” 

Roger didn’t want to walk, and his feelings about apologizing and confessing to Brian were flip flopping rapidly. 

In the end he was back in his chair, a bowl of soup in front of him, laughing with Freddie and John about god knows what. He had learned that Freddie was a graphic design student and that John studying electrical engineering. He had also learned that John played the bass guitar- and was pretty damn good at it according to Freddie. He made a mental note to tell Brian in case Tim did drop out- granted Brian still wanted to make music with him. 

The longer he was with Freddie and John, the better he felt about himself. He began channeling the guilt he was feeling into a constructive apology for Brian. By the grace of some higher power, Freddie had shown him mercy and not only forgiven him but also offered his advice was something that Roger understood that he could never repay. 

In the meantime he allowed himself to get to know Freddie, to enjoy his company, letting all thoughts of everything he’d fucked up- of Brian- to rest at the back of his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER chapter because I hated the last one so much lol. 
> 
> Thanks for making it this far and sticking with my story! (There will be fluff next chapter) 
> 
> Enjoy :))

The sun was setting, and Brian had decided that waiting up for Roger was probably going to be pointless. He knew that when he left the building, Roger had a propensity not to return until the early hours of the morning. However, today, he felt as though he might not return at all.

He had never felt the fear he was feeling as he sat in the rickety armchair. At first, it was a fear that Roger would go out, get day-drunk and get into a car wreck. As the sun set, it turned into a fear that Roger would go out, get drunk and get into a car wreck and as the early morning rolled in he figured Roger had found his next shag and crashed there. But he didn’t want to think about that. 

He wanted to sleep, but he knew that wasn’t likely. They had been out the night before, resulting in both of them unwillingly crawling out of bed in the early afternoon. He knew if he tried to go to bed now, he would only lie in bed, thinking about too much. 

He just wanted to know that Roger was safe; the other man could almost say anything to him and he would forgive him in a heartbeat. As hurtful as it was, he couldn’t live without him. He hated how lonely it made him sound, how needy- but it was the truth. In fact, Rogers attitude to the whole situation, was so common that he almost wasn’t affected by it- except that the intolerance had come from his best friend. 

He wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he had told Roger. He had hoped that Roger would perhaps pull him down by his lapels and connect their lips amorously, tangling his hands through his hair, one thing leading to another. Or wrapped him in a warm hug, Rogers hands snaking around his waist and his face on his shoulder. Maybe Roger would’ve laughed at him until his face was red, remarking, “that was so fucking funny,” not believing a thing Brian had confessed. Roger might’ve pushed him away gently and told him how great of a friend he was and how he didn’t feel that way towards him, but that it was okay. Roger might’ve pushed him away harshly and uttered the nasty word he had said earlier, disgust lacing his face. 

Apparently, the latter would have happened and he couldn’t live with that. 

He was contented with living with his heart longing for something more from his best friend, as long as he didn’t hate him. 

And now he knew he would. 

He groaned in frustration and he put his abandoned cup of tea in the sink. He had hoped by making tea his nerves would calm some, but instead it felt as though he was swallowing sand as his mouth was dry with anxiety. 

After dumping his tea, he wondered back to his and Rogers room. There was no point waiting up for Roger in the living room- especially if he found something better to do. He forced himself to lie down, clutching his pillow as if it were all that was left. He wasn’t going to upset himself over this, perhaps Roger was with friends with uni or at a pub. He might come back, he might not be disgusted and most importantly he didn’t know about Brian’s feelings so there was no way he hated him yet. 

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to induce sleep, but nothing would come. All he saw were Roger’s big blue eyes, his soft blonde hair and his lips formulating that horrible word, mocking him. 

He wished that Roger was there to hold him- he often thought about holding Roger. It was a little far fetched, but he could dream. He thought about resting his chin in his soft hair and wrapping his arms around him, allowing the warmth to comfort him into a sleepy haze. Right now, he wanted Roger to hold him, to tell him it was alright and that he loved him. Maybe not love as much as accept. 

His thoughts were broken when he heard rustling at the front door. He could hear the door creaking as it was opened, but the slam that typically followed was absent. He heard his name being whispered and he squeezed his eyes shut, maybe he could feign sleep- he wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation of any sort. Not tonight. 

Their bedroom was shared; he only hoped he was convincing enough when Roger came to the room, if he did at all.

He tried to steady his breath, to mimic the rhythmic rise and fall, the calm that happened as you slept. It was ultimately unattainable, especially when he forgot how to breathe as Roger called out for him, softly, again. Brian shifted as quietly as he could in the bed, hoping it wouldn’t creak. He gently tugged his cheap, rough blanket over his head, praying that it conveyed the message that he was asleep. 

Perhaps it was nerves, or another concoction of emotions, but when Roger opened the door to their bedroom it took every fiber of his being to steady his breath. His heart was beating wildly and he felt heat begin to rise in his face. He wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment over the conversation they had earlier, or if it was embarrassment thinking about his thinking of Roger in an amourouse way. 

Roger flicked on the small lamp on the table that seperated their beds, turning so he was facing Brians supposed sleeping form. 

“Brian?” He had to make sure that Brian was asleep. What he was about to say next was dependent on Brian’s consciousness. If he was awake, their conversation would consist of an apology, asking for forgiveness, telling him how much he liked Freddie especially after this afternoon (and that he had found a bass player, in case Tim quit) and maybe ending the entire thing in a quick hugm expressing his gratitude for Brian being in his life. 

If Brian was asleep, he had a lot that he needed to get off his chest, that he wasn’t sure he’d have the balls to say if Brian wasn’t asleep. He knew he would be too afraid of the reaction, especially after everything he’d said. 

He reached out, resting a hand on Brian’s shoulder and shaking him gently. When he got no response, he let out a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. Relief flooded him as he sat softly on the corner of Brian’s tiny bed. 

He looked over the lump under the ratty green blanket fondly, a small smile gracing his features. 

“Brian,” he took another breath, not realizing how hard it was becoming to breathe. “Brian, there’s something I have to tell you,” 

To say that Brian thought he wouldn’t pass out, would be an outright lie. He focused on steadying his breathing, while Roger tried to figure out how to get his brain and his mouth to work together. 

No words were coming out, and he was afraid if they didn’t, then he would lose Brain forever, in more ways than one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger have a much needed talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay the last chapter!  
> (Warning, this one does have a bit of homophobic language)  
> Thank you everyone for sticking around/commenting/ kudos- It means a lot! I hope you enjoyed this! This story had a prompt, but it never had a clear road map. (it started as a one shot- then a two shot... then became.... five chapters haha) It kinda became a free right so if anything seems random (like I think the last few chapters were) then thats why! 
> 
> I hope you liked it nonetheless! 
> 
> <<33

Brian had slept terribly. Every time sleep tried to take reign, his thoughts would flood his brain, reminding him of the soft apology Roger had uttered. 

He had willed himself to forget the way he was shaken gently, the warmth he felt under Rogers' hands. Brian knew the power Roger had over him- there was no way he could ever hold anything against the other man for more than a few hours. He always felt heated anger or annoyance, but it always dissolved into disappointment and a certain longing that was never fulfilled. Roger could slap him, spit in his face and call him a faggot- as he'd done to Freddie- and Brian would apologize with a resigned disappointment and remain helplessly in love with him. 

When Roger had returned to the apartment, seemingly sober, Brian had been surprised. He hadn’t expected Roger to be back until the later hours of the early morning and when he came back, he was expecting him to barely be able to stand on his own due to his excessive consumption of alcohol. Instead, he was met with a tired, defeated Roger. He hated it; he couldn’t see him, but his voice was hollow, resigned as if he had lost a fight. He wasn’t sure what there was for him to be angry about, but he’d rather him scream curses and throw things, versus speak the angsty soliloquy he all but performed while he thought Brian was asleep. 

He knew that Roger would apologize eventually. He was typically stubborn and it would usually take a lot to get him to come around. However, when Roger knew he was wrong because one of his friends got hurt, then he would apologize on his own- unprompted. Undoubtedly, Roger had hurt Brian’s feelings. One might accuse Brian of making a bold assumption- that Roger knew he had hurt him. But Brian saw the immediate regret in his blue eyes and the apology he received last night was expected. 

Not only had Roger returned the apartment sober, but he also went straight into Brian’s room; Brian hadn’t been ready to face him. Sure, Roger had messed up, but Brian’s reaction also given his feelings away and he was embarrassed. So, his logical mind told him to feign the sleep he was yearning for. He tried hard not to tense up when a soft breath was released and a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. He had forgotten how to breathe. 

Currently, it was five in the morning. That was an acceptable hour to get up and still look normal. Right?

He made his way into the kitchen, immediately pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was going to need a lot of caffeine if he wanted to make it through the day. 

Focus on breathing, the ticking of the clock. Focus on the quiet whistle of the kettle warming the water. 

Anything but Roger. 

He quickly realized that that was impossible, as though he hadn’t known before. His brain was unreliable and had once again betrayed him. 

Once his brew was done, he shakily poured it into his faded blue mug, happy to be given something to do and focusing on not spilling it all over the counter. This was short-lived, however, as it only took a couple of seconds to pour coffee into a cup. The thoughts of Roger came flooding back to his mind and he decided to confront it head-on in hopes that if he gained an understanding, he could stop brooding over it. 

Last night, Roger had come into his room and had uttered his regret before apologizing. He couldn’t tell if he was crying in the darkness, but his voice was hoarse. His focused and eloquent word choice is what led Brian to believe that he was, in fact, sober. Brian remembered the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly when Roger had assured him that he hadn’t hated him. 

It made a warmth bloom in his chest that immediately faded at the thought that Roger probably knew about the feelings that he wasn’t quite sure of himself. 

Roger told him about his day: how much he liked Freddie, and how he was sorry for being standoffish, how he had met a bass player and they should keep in touch with him in the event’s that Tim did quit. How he had a melody that he couldn’t get rid of playing in his head and he was mulling over lyrics to go with them. It seemed almost normal until Brian remembered how he was faking sleep and how Roger had called Freddie a fag yesterday morning. He was hoping Roger would finish quickly so he wouldn’t end up thinking about this conversation, his feelings and how he could move past this. 

From there, the tone of his speech had shifted: from regretful to fond, from sorrowful to a confused longing. Maybe Brian had been dozing off, for he was finding it hard to remember this part of their one-sided conversation. He did remember being taken out of his thoughts- or bad dreams, he couldn’t tell because they often felt the same- when Roger brought a hand to his face and gently brushed a stray curl from his cheek. Brian did everything he could not to move or turn bright pink. Then a kiss was awkwardly pressed to the corner of his mouth. It was gentle and the unmistakable scent of Rogers harsh cologne and cigarettes filled his nostrils; it was enough to make him involuntary shiver. He wished he could look into his blue eyes, to see the secrets they were holding as the pale moonlight shone through the window. Roger immediately pulled back, probably fearing he had woken Brian, but Brian forced his body to still again. He could hear the other man let out a shaky breath. 

“Night Bri,” he had said softly. He had heard the creaking of the bed and eventually footsteps on the floor signifying, along with his farewell, that he was heading off to bed. 

“I love you,” it was spoken so quietly that Brian had almost missed it, but it was unmistakable. Those three words had- unsurprisingly- worked Brian into a tizzy for the remainder of the morning.

Roger and Brian were no strangers to those three words; it was uttered back and forth between them all the time. Whether it was jokingly or out of gratitude, it had been said on multiple occasions. That being said, it shouldn’t have left the imprint that it had in Brians brian, on his heart, but for some reason, it had. It felt so intimate in a way that Brian could never describe. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to sit up, accept the younger man's apology and to tell him how he felt. He was thankful he hadn’t because god knows where they would’ve ended up if he had. They might have ended up worse than they were yesterday morning… 

“Bri?” 

He jumped, spilling the scalding coffee on his pajama pants, at the sound of Roger Taylor's voice entering the kitchen. He cursed, heading to the sink to retrieve the dishrag. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Roger walked over to him, eyeing the steam that was rising out of the cup. “That looks pretty hot...” he remarked absentmindedly. Despite the genuine worry in his expression, it was not hard to tell that his mind was elsewhere. 

“I’ll be fine,” Brian decided to ignore the quick sensation of stinging in his leg where the coffee had fallen. “Why are you awake?” he dabbed the rag on his pants, hoping the dark liquid wouldn’t stain the soft green fabric. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Roger shrugged, snorting as he raised an eyebrow. Brian watched him as he walked over to the stove, pouring the remains inside of the coffee kettle into his mug. “Touche,” he said under his breath. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind,” was what Roger supplied for the both of them as he tossed a few sugar cubes into his coffee. Brian didn’t even have to ask to know what Roger mean by ‘too much on my mind’. He knew all too well. The silence that lingered after that was deafening. It seemed like the cubes in his coffee would never melt as he stirred with more vigor than necessary and Brian was hyperfocused on the spilled patch of coffee on his pants. Eventually, Roger sighed, tossing the spoon with the sink with a frustrated ‘clink’ 

“Look, Brian,” He said, sliding into the chair across from Brian at their cramped kitchen table. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I don’t care. I promise. Freddie’s a nice bloke- really he is. I saw him yesterday. I know I don’t have an excuse. There’s never really a reason to say shit like that. But I suppose I’m a bit stressed is all- with uni and the band potentially failing. Tim threatening to leave. Oh! But speaking of Tim leaving, when I saw Freddie yesterday, I met his partner. He plays-” 

“Bass.” Brian cut him off before he could measure if exposing what he heard him say last night was good or not. He decided he didn’t care. “You told me,” 

Rogers crystal eyes snapped up and met Brian’s. They looked alarmed and only slightly confused. “I… What?” 

“You told me last night,” Brian whispered, the shred of confidence he had been feeling before quickly evaporated. “I was awake when you came home yesterday. Well, this morning, more,” he mumbled. 

That same silence washed over them, this time like razors on a chalkboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see the shade of Rogers face darkening substantially. This was almost unheard of- Roger Taylor did not blush and when he flushed red, it was out of sheer anger. 

“Fuck” Roger was once again the one to break the silence. “Okay, um. Jesus. Fuck, Bri.” he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was undoubtedly yearning for a cigarette. “Well, fucking fuck. I suppose I meant it when I said I love you,” 

Brian was happy the coffee mug was out of his hands, otherwise, he knew more of the liquid would end up in his lap. 

“And not just as my mate.” he managed to rasp. It seemed like the air had been vacuumed from the small kitchen. “I like you, Bri. I thought… I thought you might hate me,” his voice broke a little. 

“I could never hate you, Roger.” 

“I know! That’s the worst part- I just… couldn’t imagine things going my way this time,” Brian knew that almost every relationship or rendezvous ended with ‘things going Rogers way. It was unheard of and frankly unlikely for them not to. “I don’t think they can. I was horrible to you, so I hardly believe that anything will end in my favor.” 

Brian didn’t respond. Not because he agreed with this statement, but because he was at a loss for words. 

“I was jealous of Freddie. Which in hindsight seems unfathomable- why would I be jealous of anyone?” He tried to smirk seductively but ultimately failed. It looked more like a grimace; his joke fell flat between both of them. He cleared his throat before opening his mouth to continue. “I was jealous that he was so unapologetically himself- that he was so open with who he was. And you were okay with it- but I was too. I am too. I knew you wouldn’t be okay with me because I had never felt like this before; I wasn’t okay with me fancying a guy. In fact, I don’t think I do fancy guys.” 

Brian was watching Roger, an unreadable expression on his face as he patiently waited for him to finish. 

“I fancy you Bri.” He finally uttered the confession to a conscious Brian, slouching in defeat. “And I'm sorry the situation grew into this monster- me dragging Freddie into it and making you feel like shit. I've treated you both like rubbish.” 

“I-”

 

“And I don’t want anything to change. Please? If...if you can't forgive me, I understand. But I don't want things to change because of how I feel about you." he all but begged, not bothering to let Brian complete his response. “I’ll go back to bed until 11 and you can read a book like you usually do before I wake up. It'll be like none of this happened.” 

“Roge-”

“We’ll go to practice, and I’ll pen down some of the songs I was talking about last night. Tim will ramble about his crazy fucking fantasies that nobody listens to and when we get home I’ll have a smoke and you’ll yell at me not to do it in the house and then you'll disappear to you’re room to study for some test that you’re bound to pass on Monday.” he was out of breath and Brian couldn’t tell if his eyes were misty. “Nothing has to change, Bri. You’re the same you- I’m the same me. Nothing is different. Please.” he sounded defeated. Brian hated that. It had gone from Brian fearing that Roger would hate him, to the other way around. Brian was not excusing anything that Roger had said, but he could understand what he was struggling with. All the tension that he was feeling, all the stress he had been placing into his best friend quickly dissipated when he realized that Roger was just as nervous as he was. 

“Roger, change is good. I want things to change. What you said was hurtful. You were one of the last people I expected to say that. Please, don’t ever say it again-”

“I won’t” Roger interjected, tears coming dangerously close to falling. 

“I know you won’t- because I know you didn’t mean it. But, whether you meant it or not, you still said it. I am happy that you chatted with Freddie, though. It only makes sense that you two would get on well.” he smiled slightly, “And I like you too, Rog. I suppose that’s why it hurts so much. To think that you’d hate me…” 

“I could never hate you,” Roger’s tone was the same as Brains had been earlier. 

“I know,” Brian smiled, realizing he was mirroring words from earlier as well. 

“I like you a lot,” he insisted, almost sweetly, placing his hand on the table in hopes of initiating some sort of physical contact between him and Brian. Brian obliged, placing his hand on top of Rogers, safely enveloping it.

“I’m sorry,” Roger said again, squeezing Brian’s hand. 

“I know you are,” He didn’t want to say it was okay, because it wasn’t. But things will be okay between them because they always were. No matter the fight, the words or objects thrown at each other in anger- they always found their way back together. Why would this time be any different? The words were etched onto his heart, ingrained in his mind. The hurt they cause is something that he will always remember. By the same token, the soft ‘I love you’ had found its way there as well, sealing every leaking wound; the scar would remain, but it would heal.

His thoughts were broken by a weight he recognized as Roger standing up and positioning himself on Brians' thighs.

“Can I kiss you?” He said quietly, only inches apart from Brian’s face. Brian felt his heart began to beat, the nervousness he was feeling from half an hour ago seeping back in. He was almost sure that Roger had missed the slight nod of his head until lips were gently pressed against his. 

It wasn’t anything like he’d expect a kiss with Roger to be- his first kiss with Roger that is; it was soft and sweet but somehow of passion. It was salty, indicating the tears that had dripped down (his cheeks or Rogers? He couldn’t quite tell) but he found it hard to bring himself to care. He was expecting a hungry aggression, movement- but perhaps it was too early in the morning for that. 

Roger pulled away, only to gasp for air, he had a small smile on his face. “Thank you,” he was breathless as he rested his forehead gently against Brian’s. 

Brian could only laugh, feeling the brokenness he had felt hours ago disappear. “I love you, you idiot.” 

Roger’s smile grew in response to the beautiful laughter, allowing the remorse and regret to get lost in the past, just for a moment. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for so much for sticking around till the end!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [here](https://bismilah-bullshit.tumblr.com).
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [here](https://bismilah-bullshit.tumblr.com)
> 
> :D


End file.
